Posts

With the temperature dropping and skies threatening, I only hoped that I would make Ludlow before nightfall and, ideally, dry. Per my standard riding practice (SRP), I do whatever I can to avoid interestates and multilane highways, I found myself skirting around and then riding through Concord, the capital of New Hampshire.

Sporting a glistening gold dome like the capitol buildings of its neighbors in Massachusetts, Vermont and other New England states including Connecticut, the New Hampshire Capitol building was completed in 1819, seven years before the the first dome, made of copper, was set on our nation’s capitol building in Washington, DC.

For the first time on this journey, I wondered why I was riding. As cars passed me on the slick roads, young children pressed their nose against the cold windows or their parents’ cars seemingly giggling at me in my bright yellow rainsuit. Perhaps they thought I was Big Bird riding away on some wet adventure. Hunched over and and in a rhythm like that of a metronome gone haywire, I wiped the drops of sheeting rain from my face-shield wishing I was in a warm car.

I did arrive in Ludlow just as the sun dipped behind Okemo Mountain. While the rain-suit did I good job keeping me dry, my numb toes and soggy cover to my AirHawk seat cushion provided the evidence that today’s ride was the most physically challenging of the trip, so far.

Ludlow Vermont was chartered as a city just 15 years before Thomas Jefferson penned the Declaration of Independence in 1761 and is also the birthplace of Calvin Coolidge, the 30th president of the United States. Though it wasn’t the rich history, notable historic village nor the ski resort which brings hordes of New Englanders here in the winter that brought me to Ludlow. No I rode through whipping rain, nasty wind and biting cold to visit The Timber Inn Motel.

Well, even that’s not entirely true. Actually, I came to visit a friend who not only attended my high school, but also my college, Syracuse University’s S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. Glenn Heitsmith and I also served the Syracuse University Ski Club, organizing weekend trips to Vermont ski resorts. Yet like others I’ve encountered on my east coast tour, I haven’t seen Glenn in more than 20 years — perhaps longer. But he, his family and the infamous Inn he owns were sponsors and supporters of my WorldRider journey and for this trip, he graciously offered accommodations.

While familiar with Ludlow and Okemo Mountain, I’d never skied or visited. And until Glenn brought it to my attention, I had no idea that I had family living and working in Ludlow. I guess because I come from a fairly large extended family, there are many relatives I’d never met. While I’d heard of Joe Karl and his family, and my father had met him on a few occasions, I’d never met. So with a warm motel room and my friend Glenn in Boston for the weekend visiting his son, I arranged to meet Joe and his family–his wife Kathleen and their three lovely daughters.

Glenn not only arranged me to meet long lost relatives, so to speak, but also to deliver my WorldRider presentation to the local community Rotary Club. An article in the local paper as well as a broadcast to other Rotary Clubs, the room was packed at one of Ludlow’s finest restaurants, D.J.’s — even three Rotarian motorcyclists from elsewhere in Vermont showed up to be inspired by my adventures.

Before making tracks toward Syracuse and Rochester New York, Glenn took me on a hiking tour over the Healdville Trail which winds through Okemo State Forest and to an historic fire tower which offers vast views of Okemo Mountain and the surrounding forests and mountains. Glenn is working to gain support to maintain the old fire tower which was built by Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in the 1930’s. We then worked out way to the summit of the mountain and the ski area before making a muddy trek down a few grassy and muddy ski runs. We noticed hoses and other plumbing fittings indicating that the ski area was preparing to make snow very soon.

With more foul weather and rain on the forecast, I packed up Doc and after an excellent lunch in nearby Proctorsville at Singleton’s General Store, where not only can one find a fresh and tasty sandwich, but all the whiskey, guns and ammo you could ever desire.

I only rode as far as Saratoga Springs the day I bid my friends and family farewell in Ludlow. Next stop? Syracuse New York where I’m hoping to connect with former professors and walk in the shadows of my younger self.

My cousin Joe Karl — after all these years, I finally meet him and catch up in Ludlow, Vermont

Joe’s beautiful twins, Brigid and Paige sporting fresh vegetables from the family garden. A great homemade dinner at the Karl residence — everybody helped!

Joe’s eldest, Riley had to work on a little homework before dinner.

View from Timber Inn Motel in Ludlow, VT toward Okemo Mountain

Climbing the historic fire tower in the Okemo National Forest. Glenn is hoping to bring it to full restoration.

Historic village and town of Ludlow Vermont from atop Okemo Mountain’s historic fire tower.

Rushing waters and plenty of fallen leaves as Glenn tours me through the state forest.

Hiking the Healdville Trail with an ad hoc snowball fight thrown in.

Glenn’s wife Donna holds her cards tightly after a wonderful meal and fun with the kids.

Erik was the ringleader of the evenings card game. Seems the rules changed either to suit his hand or extend bedtime just a few minutes later. I couldn’t argue!

Patrick Chadburn prepared my last meal in Vermont, but with the bike loaded enough, I passed on any whiskey, guns or ammo. Maybe next time!

Hoping both the temperature and rains hold off until I get to Syracuse.

I know I’ve been slow on the update to worldrider.com — but one thing is for sure, I haven’t been slow to keeping busy. So at the risk of filling the e-mailboxes of my followers and subscribers, please humor me by allowing me to catch up with a handful of posts and pics of my recent east coast tour and then some.

While I grew up in New England and still cherish fond memories of fall colors, back roads and historic buildings and c harming old houses, it’s easy to remember the good of times past, and while caught up in the romance of revisiting old stomping grounds is also easy to forget many of those reasons I was drawn to the California Coast: cold, gray skies, rain and even snow. Don’t get me wrong. I love weather, the biting cold of chilling wind, sheeting rain and snowflakes on the tongue. But on a motorcycle? Sure, why not?

The idea of riding New England and the East Coast in October was incredibly alluring. The mere suggestion by Bob Henig of Bob’s BMW in Jessup, Maryland convinced me.

The ride from a tiny no frills motel just a few miles from Max BMW in North Hampton at about 8am in the morning was a sudden slap in the face of just what 39 degrees feels like at 40 mph. And it’s not that I’m averse nor unprepared for changes in weather. Geeez, I think my bones are still thawing from my days in Patagonia in southern Argentina and Chile. I’ve got the layers, the Held winter gloves and liners and a heated vest. But I have I become soft by living in Southern California since returning from my trip just two years prior? Not a chance. I think the issue is simple: I just need to warm up to cold weather.

I love seeing my breath first thing in the morning. And of the nearly 80 people that warmed the seats of Max’s showroom turned temporary multimedia theater at 10am that morning some 25 percent showed up on their bikes, including Nate Katz (aka PackMule), a fellow ADVrider who I’ve been in touch with since beginning my journey some five years ago. During the Q&A session of my presentation, Nate and others asked the usual and unusual questions that typically followed my prepared presentation. Nate rolled into North Hampton that morning on his new GS800 sporting the usual cadre of weather fighting and electric apparel. It’s no wonder before I got back on the road that Max Apparel Specialist Rose Marston convinced me to shell out dollars for a pair of heated Gerbing gloves. Me. Soft? Nah, everyone out here seems to wear them.

Perhaps the best part of this tour, other than the opportunity to share my journey and stories from the road with new and old friends, is the number of coincidences and reconnections I’ve experienced. Not only did I finally meet Nate, I was surprised to learn that the brother of a very good friend, Ken Hauck, from my high school days lives in Exeter, a short hop from Portsmouth and North Hampton. Peter greeted me at my motel and took me to dinner in the historic town of Portsmouth, which sits on the Atlantic coast and on the southern border of the Piscataqua River. Earlier that day I crossed that river over the classic truss lift Memorial Bridge to Badger island in Kittery Maine — marking the ninth state I’d visited so far on this journey.

Along the Atlantic Coast just south of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

Market Square @night, Portsmouth, New Hampshire

Perhaps even more amazing, after the presentation and Q&A a big guy sporting a mischievous smile sticks his hand out to greet me and says, “Allan Karl, it’s been a long time. I’m Brian, Kevin Skeith’s brother.” He squeezed my hand with a firm shake and we reminisced how some twenty-five years earlier when he was studying in college in the mid-west, he visited his brother Kevin, who at the time was my next door neighbor in Balboa, California.

Even weirder, Brian certainly was the only person in the room who’d ever been on the back of a motorcycle with me at the helm. The details of why and where we were going are perhaps fogged by the years, but what will forever be ingrained in both of our memories and those of his brother and my friends who were following in a car close behind, is when the light turned green at the intersection of Newport Blvd and 17th, I pulled a wheelie for several seconds, until gently resting the front wheel of my Yamaha Turbo Seca motorcycle.

Make no mistake, this was a completely unintentional wheelie. Throughout the week that Brian visited, remarking that he should be a linebacker on his native Chicago Bears team, I coined a nickname that would stick for the week: “Tiny.” With the mass of Tiny as he rode pillion, the force of the engine and his weight caused physics to take over and to both of our surprise, I’d done my first, and last, two-up wheelie on a motorcycle. It was quite appropriate that we’d meet so many years later where I was able to share more stories of motorcycle adventures.

At Max’s I learned how the passionate motorcyclists in northern New Hampshire won’t even let ice get in the way of riding bikes in the winter. Max Service & Parts Specialist Joe Warner gave me tour of the exceptionally clean and organized parts and service departments, I was treated to a unique one-of-a-kind custom-built motorcycle ice-tire, looking like an oversized spiked and studded collar suitable for perhaps a wildebeest, the Mad Max team here in New Hampshire took a highly-tuned BMW S1000RR on the ice. Interested in seeing the tire built and what kind of traction it holds on a frozen lake. Check out this YouTube video from Max’s: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHPOw-Xmm4o

After the service department at Max’s were kind enough to check out of few minor issues I was experiencing, I hopped on the road and headed to Vermont, hoping to make it to Ludlow before the impending rains–or could it be snow?

Owner Max Stratton runs two very successful BMW shops in New York and New Hampshire. I was lucky to present and meet the staff and customers of both during my east coast presentation tour 2010. I hope to be back next year!

A standing room only crowd filled the big showroom at Max’s in North Hampton, New Hampshire.

Max Service & Parts Specialist Joe Warner demonstrates the super ultra-studded ice tire used on the BMW S1000RR for racing and riding on ice lakes in New England.

Max BMW doesn’t have just one female technician, but two! I was lucky to have one these smart and pretty ladies work on Doc. Here Zena Foster diagnoses an issue of a neutral light and side stand safety switch problem that’s been nagging me since Aswan, Egypt.

On the way to Vermont I was able to find some dirt roads just so Doc could experience some sort of adventure! The rain helped!